


Misdrawn (the happy overture remix)

by Lets_call_me_Lily



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Avengers Vol. 3 (1998), Captain America & Iron Man Annual Vol. 1 (1998), Captain America Vol. 3 (1998), Captain America/Iron Man Remix 2019, Established Relationship, Iron Man Vol. 3 (1998), M/M, Marriage Proposal, Remix, Unhappy Ending, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-07 13:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17367044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lets_call_me_Lily/pseuds/Lets_call_me_Lily
Summary: His hands are shaking. He shoves them in his pockets, feels that smooth edge, the engraving that reads “forever yours”.He walks away.





	Misdrawn (the happy overture remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Unplanned (The Perfect Moment Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17673743) by [laireshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi). 



> Thanks to [Simi](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/deathsweetqueen) for the quick beta and [Redbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdyMarie/pseuds/BirdyMarie) for helping me grapple with which version of the fic to use.
> 
> 1) I borrowed some dialogue from the previous fic in the chain (they're in the 2nd section).  
> 2) I apologise for any mistakes I've made in drawing inspiration from the comics; I was running with issue summaries, the Marvel Wiki and google searches.  
> 3) Please ignore that Tony isn't really that old (eternally 35ish in 616 later continuity, right?)  
> 4) Please also ignore that 1 year in real-world comics publication is about 3 months in the 616 timeline and pretend that the events outlined in this fic stretch out for quite a lot longer than that.  
> 5) There seemed to be _very_ minimal mention of Tony using Mentallo to erase everyone's knowledge of him being Iron Man's alter-ego (that I could find without reading the Cap/IM 1998 Annual in which it occurs), but it happens! Tony immediately tells Thor and Cap in canon, though, and not much later Jan finds out as well (since Tony is dating her and feels pressured by Cap to let her know), so that's where this fic becomes decidedly canon-divergent.

“Tony, I—”

But Tony doesn’t hear what Steve has to say, can’t bear the false platitudes right now. He’s too old to be kneeling on the floor, holding his hand out for a ring that is never going to end up on his finger. Holding his heart up, raw and beating quick with false hope and gushing with adoration for this man who just stares at him, fists clenched tight, a glint of guilt in his bright blue eyes.

His hands are shaking. He shoves them in his pockets, feels that smooth edge, the engraving that reads “ _forever yours”._

He walks away.

* * *

Right. This is it; Tony squares his shoulders and looks up from his tablet as Steve walks into the lounge with a large paper bag in hand.

“Hey, Steve?”

He broaches the topic cautiously, not wanting to seem overeager. His voice is low, but his eyes are staunch with determination as he says, “Did you want to ask me something?”

There, an offering. Hopefully it’s enough to let Steve know that Tony is receptive. He’s been waiting for weeks and weeks now, ever since he’d glimpsed that square little box peeking out of Steve’s jacket the day they announced the new Avengers team and, curious, run analysis in his lab to figure out what it was.

Look, Tony knows that he is utterly besotted. He has a ring of his own ready to give to Steve; it’s been sitting in the left pants pocket of every pair he’s worn for months now. He’s taken to stroking Steve’s fine hair at night when he can’t sleep, whispering endearments and confessions of love. Evidently Steve isn’t ready yet; he’s not going to force anything on him, much less a decision of this magnitude. Tony wants to ask, but he’s still stupidly, pathetically scared of rejection. Of ruination.

After their very first kiss he’d needed to restrain himself from exclaiming “I love you”, and Carol’s been giving him strange looks for a while now (though that might be because of his continued, vested interest in her drinking habits). He _loves_ Steve. He wants to stand by his side for as long as he can.

He’d tried to ignore the niggling doubts that grew as weeks passed and Steve still didn’t say a word about the ring.

Now, Tony watches as Steve spaces out for a few minutes, lips twitching downwards.

“Steve?” he repeats, trying to prevent any desperation from leaking into his voice. Steve is so indispensable to him—Tony doesn’t want to mess it up. Doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if he destroyed their hard-won relationship. Knows that he wouldn’t survive intact, if at all. His fingers twitch. Steve still hasn’t answered.

In his head, he sees a full whiskey glass twinkling in the light, swirls it to distort the glare of his reflection and create a small whirlpool of forgetfulness he can drown himself in. He’s such an egotistical bastard, assuming it’s all about himself. Fuck, maybe that ring wasn’t meant for him, maybe it’s not even a ring—it’s not like he saw the inside of the box. It could be a friendship bracelet for all he knows.

Tony slides a hand up to his chest, taps a quick burst of Morse code on his RT. Finally, Steve says, “Uh, not that I can think of?”

Tony can feel his spine curving inwards and his expression freezes for a second. Hastily, he tries to cover it up with a smile, but it feels off now, and his shoulders are hunching.

“What’s wrong?” asks Steve.

 _Fuck_. He’s miscalculated.

That sketch he’d found on his workshop couch this morning, of Tony working with a golden ring on his finger, that must’ve been a hallucination. Or he’d been an easy subject to draw since he was right there. Obviously, Steve hadn’t left the sketchbook open on purpose as a declaration of intent. It didn’t mean anything.

Chest hollowed out, breath caught in his throat, Tony backpedals.

“Nothing’s wrong, Winghead.”

He points to the bag still clutched in Steve’s hand. “Just wondering if you were planning on inviting me to your park outing today or not.” Balancing his tablet on the arm of the couch, Tony gets up and stretches as he walks over to Steve, trying on a beguiling smile. “A picnic sounds nice, I haven’t been in the sun for a while.”

Steve’s posture relaxes, and he curves his free hand around the nape of Tony’s neck, drawing him in the rest of the way. “Ahh, sorry Shellhead. I thought you’d be busy all day; I’m meeting Hawkeye for a workout.”

He shrugs and grins, tells Steve to have a good time, that he has a Stark Solutions project to work on anyway. He tells Steve that he loves him. His hand taps the pattern out, a muffled _IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou_.

Steve leaves.

* * *

It doesn’t matter that they can’t date in public, that sometimes Steve can’t even make a “friendly outing” because an emergency arises. They’re both extremely busy people, and the responsibilities they juggle aren’t trivial. All right, lately Steve hasn’t kept him company as much, but that’s only fair; it can’t be interesting being stuck inside all day, with Tony barely moving from the spot as he works on Avengers gear between tinkering with updates for his latest suit and consulting remotely on a new Stark Solutions project. But things are good, and Tony loves Steve.

    

_—Steve smiles, earnest blue eyes crinkling as he gets up and stretches. Then he strides towards Tony, who’s staring absentmindedly at the bunching of his shirt folds and a sliver of exposed belly, inputting variables into a mental equation for how likely it is that Steve can be persuaded to make out right now._

  


_“Hey Tony,” Steve says, fingers light on his shoulders._

  


_Tony hums to show he’s listening. He revels in the casual contact, the way he can feel—yes, feel—the pressure of Steve’s hands, the skin beneath his shirt beginning to warm. Touching is so intimate when he’s typically isolated by a suit, or armour._

  


_“I’ve got a training session with Hawkeye, and then I thought I’d go pester Jarvis while he makes lunch.” Steve strokes down his spine—_

Between fighting the Supreme Squadron, searching for a way to fix Cap’s shield, and trying in vain to coax Carol into getting help, Tony plans out a week-long business trip out to Japan. Giving Carol some space to think about what Tony’d said might do her well, make it seem less like they were hovering over her (and give her an escape from Cap’s disapproving eyes). Like they trusted her to be responsible. Besides, he wants to poach a few Stark Industries colleagues from Morgan’s grubby hands if he can. When he pitches it to Steve, he mentions the famous cherry blossom trees and magnificent artworks, the chance to see Tokyo under better circumstances, says he’d love to share his favourite spots. Steve declines, mouth pinched and eyebrows crumpling.

“I’m sorry Tony, but I don’t think it’s right that we both leave the new team for that long,” he says.

When Tony mentions that the line-up is full of experienced Avengers, Steve shakes his head, jaw clenching, and he knows that further attempts to convince him will only result in an argument. Except, well, the meetings are booked, the conference speech written, and people expect him there.

Tony boards the Starkjet alone.

    

_—Tony goes to sleep nestled in bed, a warm hand draped over his stomach caressing his hipbone, Steve’s breath tickling at his nape. No pressing Avengers business means a leisurely morning for them tomorrow. On waking, he slings an arm behind him to pull Steve closer. The mattress is long-cold—_

Tony almost dies, again. Black Widow saves him, but he was beaten so badly he can’t even walk. Some superhero he is, unable to take on the Espionage Elite without help.

Steve isn’t there.

His spine is in agony, all his mottled bruises will be fresh again and he thinks he’s re-broken two ribs minimum. He can taste the salty tang of blood in his mouth. He defeats the Mandarin and destroys the core of Dragon of Heaven. He collapses, the armour unable to hold him upright, staring at the Avengers in front of him, at _Steve_. He hasn’t glimpsed that box anywhere for so long, but his is still in his left-hand pants pocket, underneath the suit. Something in his heart breaks free and pierces through the soft flesh of his armpit. He wants a drink.

Wearing the armour is killing him. Steve is off somewhere with Sharon, with his fancy new shield that he let her give him even though Tony has offered to replace the broken one more than once, has a folder full of prototypes. Steve hasn’t told him what they’re doing, and on the news it said they’d fought off the Rhino successfully so he must be okay.

Tony isn’t jealous.

At the Basel Stress Clinic, Rumiko asks him to go on a vacation with her, just for one day. Tony stares for too long, trying to find a gentle way to say no without giving anything away. He’s still with Steve, right? She walks away, offended.

    

_—Tony misses Steve, his tendency to trace patterns on his arms or drape across him like an affectionate, heavy cloak. When was the last time Steve smiled at him? When was the last time he initiated a kiss? Goddamnit, when was the last time Tony was alone with him in a room? What if it’s all been out of obligation, what if, what if this gulf is because he can’t bear pretending anymore? Does Steve still love him?_

  


_Has Steve ever loved him?—_

The whiskey stays in his head, doesn’t quite reach his hand as he determines not to let Steve suffer. He doesn’t want things to end raw and bitter and hating. He can be an adult about this; he can find things to do that’ll keep them from crossing paths for a while. He can shatter away from Steve’s disapproving gaze.

    

_—Tony turns around one day and there is Steve stalking towards him, hair askew and eyes a little red._

  


_He walks away—_

* * *

When Iron Man defeats Mentallo, Tony takes the opportunity to erase the knowledge of his compromised alter-ego from the memories of everyone who has found out over the years. Iron Man’s mask is expressionless, but inside the HUD, Tony’s lashes clump together.

Steve doesn’t need Tony. Sometimes, like when the new Avengers roster was announced, they almost stand side by side, but Tony has never been Steve’s equal. At least this way Iron Man can stay friends with Steve, even if Tony Stark is no longer worthy of notice.

He doesn’t tell Steve who he is. What he was to him.

Iron Man stands beside Steve and asks, after a long battle and arguments about moral judgements, when the weight of condemnation crushes him, heavier than the armour but only half as bitter as the feeling of not _being enough_ , he dares to ask, “Still friends?”

Steve replies, “Never stopped being.”

And that’s well and good. It’s true; even when they were something more, they never stopped being _friends._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!  
> Please do have a look at [the rest of the Fruit Chain of the 2019 Cap-IM Remix Relay](https://cap-ironman.dreamwidth.org/1996386.html), which this fic is part of, as well as the other remixes produced in this year's event.


End file.
